Sleepless Nights
by SparxFly
Summary: Harry and co. are excited to return to Hogwarts for what should be a normal year after the war, but change is in the air. WARNING: Epilogue? What epilogue? And also, this is my first fanfiction, so constructive criticism is welcome, but go easy on me :
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through The Burrow as Hermione came down the stairs. She gave Ron a good-morning peck on the cheek, which made him turn a particularly vivid shade of red. Ginny was right behind her on the steps, trudging along still half-asleep. She plopped down at her usual chair at the dining table, but when she looked to where Harry should have been, he wasn't there.

"Ron, where's Harry? Shouldn't he be up by now, being an early riser and all?"

Ron stifled a yawn. "Poor bloke's been having those dreams again. He kept me up half the night talking in his sleep... more like yelling, come to think of it. He'll probably sleep in."

Mrs. Weasley, who was carrying a rather large platter of pancakes to the table, just shook her head sadly. "Bless his soul; the dear just can't seem to get a break, hm? So worried, and the war's over and done with, after all!"

Just then, they heard Harry's footsteps upstairs, and they all tried to act "natural", which of course failed miserably.

"Mornin, all!" he called down to the table.

"Good morning Harry!" they chorused, watching him closely as he came down the stairs, while trying desperately to seem like they weren't.

Harry was a sight indeed. His typically messy black hair was even more unkempt than usual, sticking up in all directions, and the dark circles under his eyes had been there so long they seemed permanent. His pajamas were askew and wrinkled from his tossing and turning. Still, he wore a smile at seeing his "family" sitting around the table. He took his seat between George and Ginny as Mrs. Weasley brought the last of the breakfast to the table.

"Looks lovely, Mrs. Weasley!"

"Yeah, thanks Mum."

"Will you pass the muffins, Mione?"

This sort of chatter filled The Burrow as the group piled their plates full of food.

Harry turned to George, "So, how are things going at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"Fantastic, Harry! I told you Angelina Johnson was helping out, right?" Harry nodded. "Well, we've been doing bloody brilliant business since she started! Lovely witch, she is, and a fine saleswoman to boot."

"We'll have to swing by there tomorrow when we go to Diagon Alley," Mrs. Weasley commented. "Sorry I told you we'd go today, loves. But I've got several chores to do, and it'll be easier if we wait until tomorrow. Is that alright?" The group nodded, even though they really didn't have a choice.

"I'm so excited for seventh year, Ron! We'll get to finish all of our classes and take our N.E.W.T.S. and see our friends. I think Professor McGonagall will do a fine job as Headmistress, don't you? Of course, I wonder who will teach DADA..."

Ron interrupted Hermione's rambling. "I'm excited too. I think we've really got a shot in Quidditch this year. Don't you think so, Harry?"

"Well, actually –"

Just then, Harry was cut off as a large old barn owl swooped in through the window and landed in front of Hermione. She untied two letters from its leg and gave it a small piece of her toast. It ate the snack, shook its feathers, and took off back through the open kitchen window.

"Hmm... wonder what this is. Looks like Hogwarts stationery, but we already got our supply lists. Oh, this other letter is for you, Harry," she added as she passed it to him across the table. She went on muttering unintelligibly to herself, posing rhetorical questions about the mysterious letters until she finally got the ribbon from it untied and the parchment unfurled. The rest of the table - including Harry, who hadn't even attempted opening his letter yet - simply stared at her.

"Oh my goodness... well, I didn't think... but this is so exciting... I wonder if..."

"JUST SPIT IT OUT, MIONE!" the rest of the table yelled in unison.

She jolted out of her reverie. "Well, this letter says I'm Head Girl!" she could barely suppress a smile.

"Congratulations, love –"

"Proud of you, dear –"

"How exciting –" The group erupted in praise of her accomplishment. In the midst of all this, Ginny gave Harry a knowing look that obviously said "_Why is she so surprised?"_ Everyone knew Hermione was the brightest witch of their age. Of course she was Head Girl: she deserved it.

"Oh Harry, what did your letter say?" Hermione directed everyone's attention to him.

"Blimey, I haven't even looked at it yet!" He shook his head. He had forgotten all about it, with Hermione's excitement. He quickly undid the tie and opened the paper. He scanned it quickly, and then decided he hadn't read it right, so he went over it again. By this time, the group was all looking at him expectantly.

"...Well?"

"Bloody hell, I'm Head Boy!" Harry exclaimed.

As the room filled with chatter, he looked across the table and met Ron's eyes. For a moment, Harry found his expression unreadable, but soon Ron was beaming at him.

"Wicked, mate! That's brilliant," he reached across the table and shook Harry's hand good-naturedly.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was fretting as she cleared the breakfast table. "So proud of you dears. You're going to need nicer robes! Oh, and some fine quills will be in order, of course. Goodness, I wonder what else I'll need to get you. Arthur and I were Heads, you know. Big responsibility..."

"Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and I have plenty of money in Gringotts, don't worry about us!" Harry assured her, but she didn't hear him. She continued to mutter incoherently as Hermione and Ginny helped her clean and put away the dishes.

"Well kids, it's been fun, but I'm off to Diagon Alley. Angelina said she'd open up the store this morning, but that I should be in by 10:30." George stood up and walked toward the fireplace, rummaging in his pockets for some Floo Powder.

Ron stopped him for a moment. "So... Angelina, eh?" he smirked at his brother.

"Sod off, little bro! None of your damn business!" With that, he said good-bye to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, and was off.

"They'll be in an apartment together in six months, mark my words," Ron whispered to Harry.

"You really think so?"

"Of course. Have you ever heard him refer to anyone as a 'lovely witch.' Heck, have you ever heard him use the word 'lovely'?"

"True," Harry shrugged.

"Hey Harry! Wanna go play some Quidditch? Mr. Team Captain needs to start training more," Ginny said as she bounced over from assisting with chores. "Oh, Ron can you play Keeper for us? Thanks, bro!"

Harry started to walk towards the back door, but Ginny stopped him. "Your pajamas are nice and all, but I would recommend some actual clothes for Quidditch. Just a thought." She winked at him and made her way outside to retrieve the brooms. Harry turned around to Ron.

"Oy, does no one tell me anything? Team Captain! Since when?" Ron interrogated Harry.

"Sorry mate. I was about to mention it at breakfast, but then the Hogwarts owl sidetracked me. It slipped my mind, I suppose. Sorry about that. I didn't even know until we got our letters about seventh year last week; McGonagall slipped a note in there to me concerning Quidditch," he shrugged. He prayed that Ron didn't think he had avoided saying anything purposefully. He really had forgotten to tell him about it.

"Ah, s'okay. Proud of you, bud," Ron patted him on the back gently. "Well, what are you waiting for? You wanna get in shape and whip Slytherin this year, right? Go change!"

"Alright, mate."

**A/N: I know it's a bit slow right now, but I'm trying to set things up for the plan I have in my head. Bear with me! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys. I realized I didn't include this in the first chapter, so...: I DO NOT OWN THESE AWESOME CHARACTERS OR THEIR FABULOUS WORLD. THEY ARE ENTIRELY OWNED BY THE SUPERMEGAFOXYAWESOMEHOT J.K. ROWLING. So there.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

Harry sighed as he sank into the bench of the Hogwarts Express train compartment. Part of him could barely keep his eyes open from lack of sleep, but he was still too excited to even consider taking a nap. Instead, he settled for flipping through the Daily Prophet. Harry regretted this instantly, seeing his face (once again) on the front page.

**CHOSEN ONE LASHES OUT AT PRESS  
><strong>**-  
>Held back by pregnant girlfriend<strong>

**Rita Skeeter**

He threw the paper in the seat next to him, not bothering to read the article. Harry thought back to the day in question. Leave it to Rita Skeeter to make the paparazzi the victims of the story.

_Harry and Ron stepped out of The Leaky Cauldron with Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, ready to go school-shopping. But as soon as they emerged into Diagon Alley, they were met by a crowd photographers and reporters._

_"There he is!"_

_"And he's with his girlfriend!"_

_"Has dating Ginny Weasley put a strain on your friendship with her brother, Mr. Potter?"_

_"Do we hear wedding bells in the future, Mr. Potter?"_

_"Where have you been all summer, Mr. Potter?"_

_Harry stepped in front of Ginny, shielding her from the reporters firing questions at them. He shot a dirty look in what he thought was their direction, but he wasn't sure; he was momentarily blinded by the flashbulbs. The group hurried into Flourish and Blotts, desperately wanting a reprieve from the swarm of paparazzi. After finishing their business in there, Harry was dismayed to find that the gaggle of reporters had not forgotten their mission, and was waiting just outside of the shop, ready to ambush the group as soon as they left the store. This continued all day, until, after stepping out of Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Harry had finally had enough._

_"Oy! Yeah you, the slimy gits that have been following us around all day. Beat it, alright? Give us some some peace, for Merlin's sake!"_

_"Mr. Potter, we – "_

_"' – apologize profusely and will never follow you again.' Took the words right out of your mouth, didn't I? Now I better not be bothered by you anymore, or I might just be disposed to hex you into the next millennium."_

_"My, my, my, Mr. Potter. Whatever will your lovely little admirers say about your little tantrum? Wouldn't want any bad publicity, now would we?" Harry looked up and saw none other than Rita Skeeter sauntering towards him, her signature Quick Quotes Quill poised and ready to sensationalize anything it wrote._

_"I think they'd say a restraining order sounds like a good idea, don't you think?" Harry met her gaze unwavering._

_"I think they'd say that your little girlfriend here looks like she has a baby bump. Might wanna get that checked a St. Mungo's, hm?" Rita's quill was scribbling away furiously of its own accord as she adjusted her cat-eye glasses._

_"Why you dirty little –" Harry reached in his pocket and whipped out his wand. It was one thing for the press to bother him – he'd certainly given them enough to talk about – but attacking Ginny was crossing the line._

_"Levicorpu –"_

_"HARRY!" Ginny was suddenly in front of him, yanking his wand away from him. "Don't you dare," the look Ginny was giving him was enough to make him pause. "She's not worth it."_

_"I'm certainly not. Imagine what your child would think of his father, hexing an innocent observer." Rita smirked at Harry, who lunged at her, but was grabbed by Ginny and Ron. She strode away confidently, her heels clicking against the cobblestones that paved Diagon Alley. She had won this battle._

"Harry, are you quite alright?"

He jolted out of his recollection to see a pair of concerned chocolate eyes gazing at him: Hermione.

"I'm fine, Mione. Just thinking about yesterday, I suppose." He took his glasses off to clean a particularly stubborn smudge.

"Don't worry about it, mate. The whole thing will blow over in no time!" Ron patted Harry's shoulder awkwardly. He had never been good at consoling others. He was thankful when Neville and Luna entered the compartment, easing the tension.

"Hello there," Luna greeted them in her dreamy voice. As they sat down, Harry was shocked to see Neville reach for Luna's hand tentatively. He almost said something, but Hermione's pointed glare convinced him to do otherwise.

"I saw that article in the Prophet, Harry. But I, of course, don't believe a word of it. Ginny told me exactly what happened, and I think it was very brave of you, standing up to Rita Skeeter. She seems to be plagues by the distinctively vicious cousin of the Nargle, the Dabberblimp. Father and I have been researching them extensively." Luna continued on as Neville stared at her with a combination of awe and slight confusion.

"Oh, Harry. I almost forgot! We're supposed to assign duties to Prefects in Compartment E. I suppose we'd better hurry on. Make a good impression, you know."

"Right, right Hermione. See you, I guess." He waved half-heartedly to the compartment's other occupants. Harry was not looking forward to instructing the Prefects.

When Harry and Hermione entered the compartment, a cheer rose from most of the waiting Prefects, much to Harry's embarrassment

"It's the Boy Who Lived!"

"Way to go, Harry!"

"Tell us how ya did it, Harry! Tell us how ya defeated him!"

"Now, now, everyone," Hermione sought to calm the group. "You'll have plenty of time to pick Harry's brain for war stories later. Right now, I think we should focus on the task at hand."

Once everyone got on track, the meeting was as boring as Harry expected. As he scanned the group of about two dozen teenagers, he recognized a few faces. Ernie Macmillan was there, and so were Padma Patil and Hannah Abbott. Harry was also dismayed to see Malfoy and Pansy lounging across the seat furthest from him. Pansy sneered at Harry and Hermione, while Malfoy gave them a curt nod.

Before long, Harry's wish had come true and the meeting was coming to a close. He and Hermione were the last to leave, held up by a nervous fifth-year Hufflepuff. Finally, they were able to assure him that he would perform his duties just fine and that he had nothing to worry about. The poor new Prefect left eventually, still seeming oddly fidgety and anxious.

Slowly but surely, Harry and Hermione made their way back to their friends' compartment. The pair stopped several times, catching up with old acquaintances and every now and then being stopped by admirers, which embarrassed both of them greatly.

"Hey Mione," Harry nudged her. "Why are Malfoy and Pansy in our compartment?"

Hermione didn't have to answer. By this time, they were close enough to hear what Pansy was saying.

"When are you and Harry gonna be blessed with your little bundle of joy? I'm sure you're very excited, but what will your parents think? What a surprise, Ginny Weasley knocked up at 16. Tut tut tut…" Pansy wasn't so much as batting an eye under the death glares of Ginny and her mates. Malfoy, however, looked a bit nervous when Neville reached for his wand.

"Pansy, dear, I really think we've –"

"Dear, eh?" Harry, feeling he might have his anger under control a bit better now, finally stepped in. "What ever happened to Pathetic Parkinson? That's what you and Blaise used to call her in sixth year, wasn't it? I sat right behind you in that class, if you recall," he smirked before turning to Pansy. "It seems your affections weren't properly returned. In fact, I wonder if they were returned at all."

For someone who spent all her time manipulating others, it was shocking just how gullible Pansy could be. She slapped Malfoy and ran out of the compartment in tears. Malfoy made a very obscene gesture at Harry before following after her.

"Harry, that wasn't very tactful, you know," Luna pointed out as Harry and Hermione finally sat down.

"Sure it wasn't tactful, but it was bloody brilliant, mate!" Ron grinned at him. "Who knew that Parkinson would get so upset about Malfoy? I would've been glad to find out he didn't like me, scrawny little git he is."

"And I suppose you were gonna let her abuse poor Ginny like that? What kind of big brother are you?" Harry punched him lightly on the arm.

"Harry…" Ginny interrupted their squabble. "Do I… do I really look pregnant?" she asked sheepishly. She wasn't one to be overly self-conscious, but Ginny wasn't sure she could deal with being called pregnant right and left.

"Of course not, love," he kissed her tenderly on the forehead as he put his arm around her. "A tiny little bird like you, pregnant?" Harry said. "It's ridiculous for it to even be a question! Pansy over there looked more pregnant than you do." He pecked her softly on the lips, which was met by Ron clearing his throat conspicuously.

"Honestly, though, didn't she seem a bit bigger to you?" Hermione asked Harry. "Maybe it was just me, but Pansy seemed a bit rounder in the face or something."

"And she did get quite emotional when she thought Malfoy didn't love her. Maybe he knocked _her_up!" Ron chuckled. "Nah, Malfoy's to responsible for that to happen. He'd rather be murdered than 'ruin the precious family name.'"

The group continued to jabber about their classmates, discussing who they had seen and who had lost family during the war. Harry didn't participate in the idle chatter, though. He simply hugged Ginny close to him and watched the Scottish countryside roll by. Harry was just glad to finally be going home again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Last line sappy much? Yeah.**

**So I'm gonna try to update this story about once a week, but we'll see how that goes after school starts in a couple of weeks. I am determined to stick with it, though.**

**Love it? Hate it? Stalk Tom Felton? (WOW. Me too!) Let me know in the comments.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just in case you're not clear on this... I do not own any of the original Harry Potter characters in this story, they're all J.K. Rowling's. Except Tipsy... I claim Tipsy.**

* * *

><p>"Firs' years, o'er here!"<p>

Hagrid's cry rang out as the Hogwarts Express opened to a flood of students pouring out into the overcast evening. A group of timid first years scurried past Harry towards the boats. Harry heard gasps from many of the older students as they all approached the carriages.

"What is that pulling the carriage?"

"Have those always been there?"

"I wonder what they are…"

Harry was confused by the chatter at first, but then it dawned on him: the thestrals. He had been able to see them since fifth year, but most of the students were just now able to see them. It was a grim testament to the number of deaths and how much Hogwarts and its students had really suffered.

The carriage ride was quiet as its occupants soaked in the landscape around them. The teachers had stayed all summer, repairing and sprucing up the castle after the damage from the final battle. The grounds had been remarkably restored, and it was difficult to tell if there had really ever been a battle at all. And then there it was; the castle looming ahead of them, its turrets and towers tall above them, reaching towards the gray sky.

At last, the carriages reached the castle. Harry jumped out of the carriage, and was alarmed to find that, somehow, a group of reporters had been stationed just in front of the castle entrance, waiting for them. _Not again._

Harry didn't even stop to reprimand them. He helped Ginny and Hermione out of the carriage quickly and ushered them into the castle, away from the paparazzi. Neville, Ron, and Luna hurried after them. But the crowd of reporters still called out questions to them, hoping to glean any answers they could.

"Is it true you're pregnant, Miss Weasley?"

"Are you sure you're the father, Mr. Potter?"

The six teenagers didn't hear any more of the questions, for at that precise moment a livid Professor Flitwick hastened past them, ready to chew out the persistent press.

"How did they get here?" Ginny looked up at him. Professor Flitwick could be heard screaming in the background, and Ron looked over his shoulder to see the gaggle of reporters looking absolutely terrified of the old man. "Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn't let them in!"

"Perhaps they came through Hogsmeade," Hermione guessed.

"Reporters… most of them have never opened their minds enough to think of true news, like Crumple-Horned Snorcack sightings and such, and would prefer the mundane stories of other peoples' lives." Luna shook her head in dismay. "Pity, really."

"Luna's right," Ron chimed in. "Must be a sad life, making your living off of following around some whiny teenage git." He stole a glance at Harry, smirking at him slyly.

"Now listen here, mate –" Harry started to retort, but before he could, they were met by Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I'm glad I found you. I need to show you your dormitory right now, for there won't be time after the feast. Besides, you'll be assisting first-years after the meal anyway. Hurry up now, no time to waste."

"Right, Professor. See you all." Harry looked back at his friends as he followed the headmistress. Ron's face looked clouded, but Harry just brushed it off as nothing.

After many a winding staircase and more than a few trick stairs, the pair found that Professor McGonagall had led them to a portrait of Godric Gryffindor.

"The password is dittany. I suppose I'll leave you two to look around for a moment, but you need to be in the Great Hall in twenty minutes." Professor McGonagall bade them farewell and started back down the steps.

Harry and Hermione had no time to waste. After they gave the password to Godric, they clambered through the portrait hole and were met by a small house elf with soft grey eyes.

"Mr. Harry and Miss Hermy-one!" she squeaked, seemingly barely able to contain her excitement. "I is Tipsy, your very own personal house elf!"

Harry was pleasantly surprised, but disguised his joy after seeing the horror etched on Hermione's face.

"Oh, no Tipsy. We don't need a house elf. I couldn't ask you to work for us," Hermione assured the little house elf.

"But I must, Miss Hermy-one! 'Tis my duty! I have worked for the Heads since I was but a wee elf! And my mother before me, and my grandmother as well… Miss Hermy-one, it's a time-honored tradition!" the little elf explained.

"Tipsy, it's very kind of you to offer your services, but unless you let me pay you and buy you a nice set of clothes, I just can't let you serve us." Hermione said.

At this, Harry was shocked to see the calm house elf throw her petite body to the ground in a fit of despair.

"B-b-but… it is my duty! Tipsy mustn't disgrace her ancestors! You need Tipsy to look after you! Oh, how shall Tipsy live down being fired from her distinguished position?" her wails filled the common room.

Harry looked at Hermione apologetically. "I know you don't want a house elf, Mione, but wouldn't it be better to let her work and treat her well than put the poor thing through this misery? It seems she's quite set on being our house elf," he shrugged.

"Well… alright," Hermione turned to Tipsy who was still sniffling softly. "Tipsy, I'm sorry. I suppose... you can be our house elf." she said reluctantly

The change in Tipsy's behavior was astounding. "Yes, Miss Hermy-one! Of course, whatever you say! Ooh, you should be getting to the Great Hall! It's almost time for the meal!"

"She's right, you know," Harry added, slowly walking back to the portrait hole. "It's almost seven."

"I suppose we should go," Hermione said.

"Oh, Tipsy will not disappoint you Mr. Harry and Miss Hermy-one! Tipsy shall strive to be good house elf to you!" She proceeded to scurry around the dormitory, cleaning and unpacking their things at a feverish pace.

"Thank you very much, Tipsy!" they called as they made their way down to the Great Hall.

As the pair strode through the massive doors towards the Gryffindor table, they were met by a group of their friends and acquaintances rushing to meet them. The sudden roar of the chattering teens left Harry's head spinning. He was vaguely aware of walking towards the Gryffindor table, but felt that he was being moved forward by the crowd rather than his own two feet.

Before the Golden Trio could be showered with any more attention, Professor McGonagall stood up from her place at the Head Table to begin the Sorting. Harry felt too dazed to take in much of what was happening; between his recent lack of sleep and the eventful day, he was rather tired, and he had a sinking feeling that the day was far from over.

Harry was jolted from his musings by the end of the Sorting. Professor McGonagall was saying something, but Harry wasn't quite processing it.

"…I'd like you all to extend a warm welcome to Professor Dewhurst."

He turned to Hermione in confusion.

"That's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry," she explained with a worried tone, correctly reading Harry's expression. "She's an American Auror."

Harry looked at the unfamiliar witch at the Head Table, who was brushing her blonde bangs out of her eyes and smiling slightly as she talked to Professor Sprout. She noticed Harry, and as she caught his eye, he had the strangest sense of déjà vu. He rubbed his scar absentmindedly, and Hermione noticed.

"Harry," she caught his attention as she touched his shoulder lightly. "Are you going to be okay?" Her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine, Mione," Harry assured her, but she wasn't convinced.

Once Professor McGonagall sat back down, the food appeared before them. The meal was as splendid as ever, but Harry could barely taste the food. He wondered if he was coming down with the flu, but brushed the notion aside without a second thought.

When everyone was done ooh-ing and aah-ing over the meal, they turned to the Golden Trio, much to Harry and Hermione's chagrin. Ron, however, seemed to enjoy the attention, regaling people with exaggerated stories of hunting for horcruxes and his participation in the Final Battle. A distinctively giggly group of forth-year girls seemed to find the tales absolutely riveting, which annoyed Hermione to no end.

Eventually, students started trickling out of the Great Hall and Hermione and Harry were required to attend to their duties. They helped a terrified looking Ravenclaw first-year that had lost her hat and a pair of anxious little Hufflepuffs trying to find the staircase down to their common room.

As the hour wore on, Hermione noticed that Harry was seeming less and less well. Before long, however, most of the students had cleared out of the entrance hall and were in their respective common rooms. Hermione turned to Harry, who was leaning against a column, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Come on, Harry," she murmured. "Let's head back to the common room."

The walk seemed ages long; not a word was breathed between the two as they navigated their way through the corridors. At last, they were finally in front of Godric Gryffindor's portrait.

"Dittany."

"Right you are, my dear. Goodnight to you," Godric said as the portrait swung open.

Hermione let out a small gasp as they scrambled through the portrait hole into their private common room. In the midst of dealing with Tipsy earlier, neither Harry nor Hermione had really paid much attention to their living space. It was decorated much like the Gryffindor common room, except smaller and more luxurious. Tipsy was tending to a fire on one side of the room, which cast the area in a warm glow, the golden embroidery of the armchairs glinting in the firelight. Through silken curtains, one could see the lake shimmering under the moon.

Without a word (but perhaps a yawn or two), the two made their ways up to their respective bedrooms. Forgetting to even take off his robes, Harry collapsed onto the bed and fell straight into a deep slumber.

* * *

><strong>AN: So... whatcha think? Lemme know in the reviews! I'll try to update soon, but school starts Wednesday so... we'll see how that goes, I guess.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been so long dears! I've had most of this chapter completed for a while, but between AP classes and recently being cast in a play, I've been at a loss for time. And will power. But at last, I have taken to my word processor once more. Just don't give up on me if I continue to take a while for updates.**

**I feel the need to respond to a couple of my reviewers, so if you are T.A. Perrot or BrutallyHonest96, read on:**

**T.A. Perrot:** _Your review easily made my week. Keeping the characters true to self is my biggest concern, so your review was a huge compliment to me. THANK YOU! :)_

**BrutallyHonest96: **_I apologize if the scar bit was unclear. I'll be explaining it further in later chapters. I really appreciate you pointing that out so that I can make sure to focus on it. _

**As always, I have simply kidnapped Harry and co. temporarily. Their permanent residence is with the fabulous J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

><p>Hermione jolted awake in her bedroom. After lighting her wand, she peered at her watch on the bedside table as a low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.<p>

4:37

_Perhaps the storm outside woke me up, _she thought hopefully. But a muffled cry from the adjacent room told her that she had not been awoken by the thunder, but rather by Harry's restless sleep. More bad dreams.

She rolled out of bed gently and tiptoed into the hall to the door of Harry's room. When she pressed her ear to the door, she could hear him yelling in his sleep

"Ginny! Her-Hermione! Ron!"

Hermione sighed. Harry's dreams had been occurring every night this week. It made her feel helpless, watching him suffer like this. She reached up and tapped on the door softly "Harry, Harry wake up…" she called through the door, but to no avail. He was still talking, and she could hear the bed creaking under his tossing and turning. "Harry, dear, get up!" she tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no answer. _I hate to do this, _she thought. But it was obvious that her conventional methods were doing no good.

"HARRY, DEAN THOMAS JUST PROPOSED TO GINNY!"

_Thump. _He was awake.

The door opened moments later and a very agitated Harry stumbled out. "Hermione… what the _hell _was that?" he said.

"Sorry…" she was staring at her feet. "But… it woke you up, didn't it?" Hermione peeked out from under her bushy hair, fighting to suppress a smile.

"Whatever," he turned around to go back to bed, but then changed his mind. He sighed resignedly. "Was I really that loud?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I'm going to try and find out how to brew a Dreamless Sleep potion, or at least make you a Draught of Peace. You won't be able to function when you're awake if your dreams keep on like this, you realize."

"I suppose…"

"Harry, do you - do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to say, is there? It's always the same. He's got you all, Ron, Ginny, you, everyone. And there's nothing I can do. I'm… I'm totally, completely at a loss to do anything. Sometimes there's someone random there too, helping him… It was Professor Dewhurst this time. Last night Mrs. Norris was there. Always knew there was something funny about that cat." He chuckled slightly.

Hermione reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, I think… I think you need to discuss this with someone."

"…I thought I was discussing it with you." Harry tilted his head to one side.

"That's not what I meant," she shook her head slightly. "I mean, I think you need to see a professional about this, Harry. There's a psychological condition, Muggles call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I'm concerned that's what's wrong with you," Hermione's brown eyes were filled with anxiety. "I - I'm really worried about you," her voice broke as she choked back her tears.

Harry instinctually grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Mione, it'll be alright," he murmured in her ear. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere…" he continued to comfort her as he held her. He found it odd that he was comforting her about _his_ psychological issues, but he didn't say anything about it. After a while, Hermione's quiet sniffling stopped and Harry held her back at an arm's length. "I'll talk to Madame Pomfrey and see what I can do, alright?" he smiled at her softly. "I suppose we ought to try and go back to sleep, don't you think?" She nodded, seeming slightly embarrassed by her emotional moment. "Well, goodnight Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry."

The crowd of Gryffindors collectively groaned as they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the first time in the new year. It seemed that whoever made the schedules had not yet gained enough wisdom to realize that pairing the Gryffindors and Slytherins for classes was a poor decision. The two houses automatically separated themselves in the room, the Slytherins occupying the left side of the classroom while the Gryffindors dominated the right.

After a few minutes of idle chatter, the professor finally called her class to order.

"Good morning class. My name is Professor Dewhurst, in case you haven't picked up on that yet," her lips formed a small smile. She paced back and forth in front of the room.

"I've been told that I'm supposed to be teaching you how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts. But it seems to me that, in this class particularly, that you probably know as much as I do," she paused in her path as she gazed at Harry.

He developed that same strange sensation in his scar he had experienced at the feast the first night: not even a hint of pain, as his scar had been prone to producing when he had the horcrux inside of him, simply a tingling sensation that made him unusually aware of the mark on his forehead.

Professor Dewhurst continued with her speech. "However, we must still cover what will be appearing on your N.E.W.T. tests in the summer. So bear with me if some of what we study is review.

"Now, class. Professor Flitwick and I have discussed it, and we will be working together to help you master the Patronus Charm. I realize this is very advanced magic, but you are N.E.W.T. students after all, and a group of dementors has been spotted near Hogsmeade. The Ministry has yet to exercise control over the magical creatures that were allied with You-Know-Who, and we want you to be prepared in case of any danger. Professor Flitwick will be focusing on teaching you the technique of producing a Patronus, and I'll make sure you know everything you'll need to conjure one when it counts."

The students' quills were scratching away furiously as Professor Dewhurst gave them instructions and tips on casting effective Patronus charms. After about 15 minutes, Harry heard a soft whimper from across the room. He looked up from his notes momentarily, and saw that Pansy Parkinson had gone quite pale. Malfoy was glancing at her nervously. Pansy scurried up to the front of the class, whispered something to Professor Dewhurst hurriedly, and proceeded to sprint from the classroom with a hand over her mouth.

"Ah – Mr. Weasley. Would you kindly accompany Miss Parkinson to the hospital wing? Make sure she's all right, you know."

"Er… yes, Professor." Ron seemed very confused as he strode out of the room after Pansy.

Professor Dewhurst continued the class without any further mention of Pansy, but that didn't stop her pupils from shooting curious looks at one another. Ron returned after ten minutes, but didn't explain anything to Harry or Hermione until they were on their way to Potions.

"Madame Pomfrey didn't seem surprised Pansy was in the hospital wing. Maybe she's got a stomach bug or something. But if it's possible to feel sorry for Pug-Face Parkinson, I do. She looked like she felt absolutely wretched."

"Well, I don't pity her one bit," Hermione sniffed as they grabbed their usual table in the dungeons. She had absolutely loathed Pansy ever since she had snidely commented about Hermione's buck teeth.

Professor Slughorn stepped out from behind his desk in the front of the classroom. "Today, class, we will be working on a very difficult potion: Anaegrogatio. Can anyone tell me what this potion is used for?"

Hermione's hand was in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Anaegrogatio is used as a healing potion to cure the common cold."

"Yes! It is a very difficult potion to brew, and takes quite a while to set up. We'll be working on this potion for a few months. Let's see here…" Professor Slughorn paused for a moment and tapped his wand on the desk absentmindedly.

"The other professors and I have discussed it, and we feel that there is a great deal too much interhouse enmity. So I want to try something new." There was a twinkle in his eye that made every student nervous.

"Mr. Potter, you will be working with Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger, why don't you pair up with Mr. Zabini?" The Slytherins rolled their eyes miserably.

Professor Slughorn continued down the list of students, telling Gryffindors and Slytherins to work together. When he paired Ron with Pansy, Ron looked over his shoulder wistfully at Hermione. This put Harry in a particularly foul train of thought for the rest of the class, and he wasn't even sure why. This bad mood increased even more so after Zabini and Malfoy sauntered over to his and Hermione's table.

Malfoy was twirling his wand through his long fingers idly, not even bothering to acknowledge his Gryffindor companions. Zabini just sat there. There was an awkward silence for a moment until Hermione went to retrieve the ingredients for both groups' potions.

When she came back, it became apparent that Hermione and Harry were going to function as partners while the other two paired up. The two groups whispered to each other as they set up the first part of the potion, each pair acting as if the other two didn't exist.

Throughout the class, Harry noticed that Hermione was looking at something over his shoulder repeatedly. Whenever she did, she seemed to become more and more agitated. Eventually, Harry's curiosity got the best of him and he turned around to find out what was so terribly interesting behind him. He saw Ron and Pansy laboring over their cauldron. They were working together rather well, it seemed, but not overly friendly. It didn't bother Harry much, but when he swiveled back around and saw Hermione fuming as she chopped up some mistletoe berries, he became furious that Ron would have the audacity to actually tolerate Pansy. Couldn't he see how upset it made Hermione?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'll try to update soon, I promise. Reviews and favorites are welcome as always!**


End file.
